


Never Ever Ever Ever Ever Getting Rid of Me

by Forever_A_Thief



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Young Avengers
Genre: Brother-Sister Relationships, Gen, Guardian-Ward Relationship, Hawkeye and Hawkeye - Freeform, M/M, eventual Bucky/Clint, human disasters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-26 06:57:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7564573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forever_A_Thief/pseuds/Forever_A_Thief
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kate has found her place in the world: right at Clint's side. Stealing his coffee, feeding pizza to his dog, and throwing popcorn at him when he's being stupid. He's taken to watching out for her, and she's determined to return the favor. Enter Bucky Barnes...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Clint woke up to Kate’s foot in his face and Lucky’s tail brushing lazily against his chin every few seconds. He groaned, already knowing it was far too early to be awake.

“ _Katie_ ,” he whined, shoving her foot out of his face only to have her heel slam down into his groin unrepentantly. “ _Ugh_ ,” he complained, crunching up in pain. He twisted around until he fell off of the couch entirely, landing face first onto the floor. “Ugh, Kate, why.”

She grumbled something unintelligible at him, twisted on the sofa so she was stretched out into the space he had previously been occupying, and promptly fell back asleep.

Lucky was wide-awake now, too, tail thumping against the floor as he watched Clint intently with his one good eye. Clint gave in and reached out to pet him, rubbing Lucky on the head to the dog’s great enjoyment.

“Coffee. I need coffee.” He pulled himself to his feet and went about doing just that. After his third cup he was feeling marginally more human, and his brain had finally started working again. And _then_ he caught sight of the clock on the wall and sighed. He was not looking forward to this fight, and it took him a few long moments to try and wrap his head around the reason it was now his job.

“Katie. Katie-Kate. Kiddo, you have to get up now.” The only answer was a long moan. And then silence. “Katie. Hey, now.” Clint hovered over the back of the couch and peered down at his apprentice. “You’ve got school in an hour. Time to get up.”

She cracked open an eye to glare up at him, her hair everywhere and her eyes caked with gunk. He never understood how people could say that someone was beautiful right when they woke up; Kate always looked like a human disaster when she rolled out of bed.

“I’ve got _coffee_ ,” he bribed, waving his mug under her nose, but just out of reach. Her eyes opened a smidge more, and she looked far more awake now.

“Coffee?” she mumbled, reaching out for the mug but only getting thin air.

“Yep. Coffee and cereal. What do you say, kid?”

She was quiet for a long moment before she sighed with her entire body and sagged into the sofa. “ _Fine_ ,” she whined, twisting around on the sofa so she could roll to her feet. She teetered there, almost knocking herself over, before she stood straight again and stomped off to the bathroom to begin the process of looking like a Real Girl™ again.

Clint watched her go with a smirk and then moved to the kitchen, grabbing another mug and a bowl for her cereal. Her breakfast was waiting for her on the table for when she returned and he had to marvel over how this was his life now. It was so _mundane_.

Kate appeared ten minutes later, looking polished and _not_ like she had just woken up at all. She fell into her seat at the table and brought the coffee up to her face, breathing in deep.

Clint watched her in amusement, waiting for her to get halfway through her first cup before he even attempted to speak to her.

“Hey, Kate. You know I love having you crash here every now and then, whatever, but this is becoming kind of a regular thing. I mean, we have a _routine_ now. Once there’s a routine, that means it’s happening a hell of a lot.” She raised a brow at him, leaned over her mug of coffee, and glared at him to get to the point. “ _I’m just saying_ , are you ever planning on going home? I’m sure your dad misses you.”

She scoffed into her cup and set it aside with a longing look to start on her food. “Dad doesn’t even notice when I’m gone. He won’t care I’m here. It’s no big deal.” She hesitated for a moment, her eyes flashing with some sort of emotion, before she glared down at her cereal, swishing her spoon through it sullenly. “If you don’t want me crashing here anymore, I’ll find somewhere else. It’s fine.”

“That’s _not_ what I said, Katie!” Clint said, sounding offended. “You’re always welcome here, kid. But I think you should at least let your dad know that you’re gonna be spending so much time here. I don’t want him to freak out if he can’t find you. _Or_ have him think something _weird_ is going on here with us if he ever _does_ track you down.”

“Gross!” she shrieked, her face scrunched up in disgust. “Fine, I’ll call him tonight after school. _Ew_ , I’m not going to be able to get that out of my head now. I need brain bleach, Barton. Ugh,” she whined, her eyes scrunched closed and tongue stuck out.

Clint just rolled his eyes, reaching out to ruffle her hair in response. “Shut up, weirdo, and finish your breakfast. You’re down to twenty minutes to get to school, now.”

Kate grumbled through the rest of her food but she was out the door in time to make it to class, so Clint couldn’t complain. Much.

 

“I’m _not_ coming back! And there’s _nothing_ you can do about it. I _hate_ it there.” Kate was screaming into her phone when Clint opened the door to his apartment and it had Clint immediately on guard. “No!” she shouted once more, glaring a hole into the wall, her phone pressed tight against her ear and her arms squeezed close to her body. Her face was pinched and stressed, and her eyes were just starting to shine with tears. _That_ had Clint freaking out momentarily, even more than the screaming; Katie didn’t cry over _anything_.

This _must_ be bad.

“Katie-Kate, that your dad?” he asked quietly, even if he already knew the answer. She gave him a supremely unamused look back, because she knew he knew damn well who she was talking to. “Do you want me to talk to him?” She hesitated, someone still speaking loudly on the other end, before she nodded and handed the phone over, moving to the sofa instead to flop down, tugging Lucky into her lap to pet at in her agitation.

The man was still droning on when Clint brought the phone to his ear. “’Scuse me, sir? This is Clint Barton. Kate’s been crashing on my sofa for a while, now. I told her this morning that I wanted her to let you know where she was so you didn’t worry.”

There was a long silence, and then the man started going again. “And just _who_ are _you_? And how old are you? This is ridiculous, Katherine should be home, not ‘ _crashing’_ on some stranger’s couch. I swear, that girl-,” he complained, his voice grating and aggravating to Clint’s own ears.

“With all due respect, sir, I’m no stranger. I’ve known Kate since she was thirteen. I taught her archery and self-defense, and she just kind of latched on to me after that. I’m thirty-two, and have no untoward thoughts or feelings toward your daughter, honest. She’s sixteen! Besides, she’s a little too annoying for my tastes.”

“Hey!” Kate shrieked indignantly, scowling at Clint.

Clint stuck his tongue out at her before continuing. “I swear, sir. She’s like a little sister to me. She’s _safe_ here. I make sure she’s clean and fed and studies and I get her off to school and everything. She’s fine. I just wanted her to let you know where she was.”

The silence stretched on for so long that Clint was almost afraid the man had hung up on him, but then there was a long, drawn out sigh and he started speaking again, sounding exhausted.

“I’m going to do a background check on you, young man. Katherine speaks highly of you, so if you check out, I suppose she can stay as long as she likes. I want her happy. She obviously wasn’t, here.”

Clint was slightly blown away at that. He was _sure_ he was going to have to fight the man harder than that. “Thank you, sir. I promise, I’ll take good care of her.”

“I’m not a little kid,” Kate groaned from the other side of the room, pouting up at Clint. Lucky whacked his tail against her thigh, suitably distracting her from Clint’s rolling eyes.

“You’d better,” Kate’s father said, before promptly hanging up. Clint stared at the phone, surprised by the abruptness of it all, before he shrugged and tossed the phone to Kate.

“Well, that went well.”

 

Two weeks later, a thick packet of papers appeared at Clint’s door. He opened the package slowly, wary of surprise mail left in front of his door. Inside were pages and pages of some sort of contract. When he looked closer, her saw Kate’s name multiple times, along with her father’s and Clint’s own as well.

“Uhm,” he said, scratching his head in confusion. And then he read the headings and his eyebrows shot to his hairline. “Guardianship papers, huh?” He flipped through a few more, seeing the guardianship papers along with medical proxy and something from Kate’s school saying he would be called with anything to do with her.

“Sure works fast, doesn’t he?” Clint said to himself as he pulled a pen from his junk drawer, settling at the table to fill out the papers. He didn’t even hesitate over the first signature. Kate and him were close, and he would do anything for her. Even this.

 

“Well, Katie-Kate. It’s _official_.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders as they left the lawyer’s office, a smirk on his face. She just rolled her eyes at him.

“It’s just a _legality_ , I don’t know why you’re so excited,” she grumbled.

“Because now I don’t have to worry about your dad breathing down my neck or have to watch you look all frowny-face when he doesn’t show up to stuff he promised he would. I’ll have you know; I take my responsibilities _very_ _seriously_.”

“You couldn’t make the last call to Assemble because you burned your hand drinking coffee straight from the carafe,” Kate pointed out, deadpan, supremely unimpressed. That was practically her default setting, though. Clint had stopped taking it seriously a long time ago. “That’s being responsible?”

“Damn straight!” Clint said with a grin, squeezing her shoulders before releasing her so he could prance ahead of her. “Look at you. You’re learning fast, kid!”


	2. Chapter 2

Nothing much changed after the Signing of the Papers, other than the fact that instead of forging her father’s signature on things, she had to forge Clint’s instead. Which was a whole lot easier seeing as Clint just kind of scribbled on the paper and called it good job.

Clint’s friends, the Avengers, all found out after Tony Stark stuck his nose where it didn’t belong and unearthed the guardianship papers. And Stark couldn’t keep a secret to _save_ _his life_ , not that it was really a secret.

Stark had sent them a fruit basket and about a million little pink ‘It’s a Girl!’ balloons; Dr. Banner had tacked on a more modest congratulations, sneaking in an apology for Tony’s antics, as well. Captain America hadn’t said much out loud, but the one time he had visited when Kate was home he had kept giving her these soft, nostalgic looks. Which was _incredibly_ awkward seeing as they hadn’t really interacted much before all of this. Clint’s best friend ( _the freaking Black Widow_ ) had smirked at Barton when she heard, before giving Kate a once over and nodding in approval. That little nod had made Kate’s _month_. The _Black Widow_ thought _she_ was satisfactory.

Other than all of that, things pretty much went on as usual. They dealt with the Tracksuit Mafia together whenever Clint wasn’t busy Avenger-ing and Kate wasn’t busy punching bad guys with her friends. She still had school, though, and that was where she was having the most difficulties, surprisingly. You would think aliens and mad scientists would cause more problems than annoying teenage girls.

She was currently sitting in the principal’s office with a split lip and a nose bleed that just would not stop. The little jerks that had started all of this were huddled on the other side of the office, glaring at her like it was _her_ fault they had gotten caught.

The door handle jiggled and Kate could hear someone grumbling at it before the door swung open all the way, and she sighed, arms crossed over her chest. Clint stood there, looking around the office in confusion, before he spotted her against the wall and made his way to her.

“Katie-Kate!” he shouted happily, like he hadn’t just been called to pick her up from school for fighting. Kate rolled her eyes at him but dragged a chair closer to her with her ankle so he could sit down. He was going to have to be in her corner for this, she might as well be nice about it.

“So, what happened, kid? The call just said you got caught fighting.” The girls on the other side of the room started giggling, hiding their faces in their hands like they were ten and thought no one would notice their pink faces if they hid behind their fingers.

Kate glared at them before she grumbled out a response. “Those idiots started it.”

Clint chuckled, turning to size up the group of girls giggling and staring at them. “Was it worth it?” he asked out of the side of his mouth, sounding curious and not angry at all.

“Pfft. Of course. They were being jerks.”

“Alright. I can get behind that. But, Kate, why’d you have to get _caught_?” he whined, crossing his arms and flopping back in his chair, pouting up at her.

“It’s not like I set out to get in a fight. _Or_ get caught. A teacher heard us from the hallway and broke us up. Somehow, since I’m the one with the least amount of injuries, it was automatically my fault.”

Clint sighed but nodded. “I know how that goes,” he commiserated, and Kate had to remind herself that Clint had grown up first as poor kid, then as a poor foster kid, and then as a poor carnie kid. He was probably always getting blamed for things he didn’t do.

“Well,” he said abruptly, slapping his hands on his thighs and grinning, “I already talked to the principal. We’re free to leave. No suspension or anything, you’re all good to go.” He clapped a hand on her shoulder, smirking at her shocked face. “I knew you wouldn’t have started this shit. I sweet talked the lady in charge, it’s all good. _Them_ , on the other hand,” Clint whispered, waggling his eyebrows towards the group of girls.

Kate couldn’t hold back the unattractive cackle that broke through her lips, absolutely _loving_ the fact that Clint was her guardian now. Her father would have just thrown money at the problem, if he had even shown up at all. It was nice to know that Clint had her back, even in something as stupid as this.

Kate stood up and followed Clint to the door, a smirk on her face as they passed the other girls. Kate stuck her tongue out at them and held her head high as she sashayed out of the room, trying to channel her inner Natasha and inspire the fear of _scary Russian spies_ in the souls of those girls. It seemed to work because the smiles on their faces faltered and once Clint and Kate had made it out the door, the stern faced principal stomped into her office, her face a stormy thundercloud of anger. Just as the door clicked shut, they heard her start in on them with her lecturing voice.

Kate shivered at the thought; if Clint hadn’t shown up, that would have been her in there. Clint grinned at her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, squeezing them tight before letting her go. Just a little reminder that he was with her, no matter what. It warmed something hard and jagged in her chest, because she had been on her own for so long now. It was _really, really_ _nice_ to finally have some backup she could count on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooo! Two chapters in one day! Don't you guys feel lucky? I'm still building up the relationship between Clint and Kate, but Bucky will be arriving soon, I promise!


	3. Chapter 3

“-and then Cap smashed the shield into the robot’s neck, and the entire swarm of them just _collapsed_!” Clint exclaimed, laughing uncontrollably. Kate rolled her eyes at his exuberance but had to crack a smile at his infectious laughter. Lucky panted up at them excitedly, feeding off of Clint’s happiness.

“You are such an idiot,” Kate complained, tugging on Lucky’s leash so they could pass Clint by. Clint was still doubled over half a street back, laughing so hard he was crying. When he noticed Kate had left him behind, he straightened up and ran after her, complaining the entire way.

“Kate! I’m _hilarious_ , what are you talking about? I have stories for _everything_. Ugh, stop walking so fast, I hate running. Cardio is such a _bitch_.” Kate was just about to throw another goading jab over her shoulder when she saw a familiar group of matching tracksuit-wearing Russians hovering on the corner ahead of them. She froze, Lucky tugging against his leash for a moment until he realized she wasn’t moving anymore, and Clint finally caught up with her, laughing in her ear even as she stared down the Tracksuit Mafia.

“We’ve got company,” Kate revealed, cutting Clint’s tirade off before he could really get going. His mouth snapped shut, his sharp eyes flicking around their surroundings before he caught sight of them, too. There was an instant shift in his stature, back straight and face fierce as he placed himself between Kate and the threat.

The Russians had caught sight of them by then, and were obviously making their way steadily closer. They had been a steady pain in Clint’s ass ever since he had moved into his apartment building; they had tried hiking up the rent to force the tenants out, but Clint had put a stop to that as quick as he could. If that hadn’t been enough for them to hate Clint’s guts, he had taken their dog after he had been thrown into traffic and left for dead. Clint couldn’t stand people that hurt other people, _or_ dogs.

So, needless to say, the Tracksuit Mafia and Clint Barton did not see eye to eye.

“Bro!” one of them shouted, still half a street away. “That’s my dog, bro!” Clint rolled his eyes, turning to meet Kate’s glare.

“Did you happen to bring any weapons with you?” he asked, patting his own pockets but knowing he wouldn’t be finding anything. She shook her head, face set in a grimace as the Russians got closer and closer. Lucky growled low in his throat, recognizing them as they tried to circle Clint and Kate.

Clint reached out and pointed Kate in the direction of the apartment building the moment he saw one of the Russians pull a gun from his waistband. “Kate, run!” They turned as one and pelted off down the sidewalk, Lucky bounding at their side.

“Bro! You can’t run away, bro!”

They heard the gun cock behind their backs and Clint started cursing loud and hard. Kate added a bit more speed to her run and tugged Lucky along with her. She didn’t need any extra holes in her body, thanks.

Sadly, she wasn’t fast enough.

She went down hard when a bullet hit her in the arm. It hadn’t hit the meat of her arm, thank God, but it did sting like hell. Really, it was just a scratch, but the fear skating through her veins that _she could have just died_ had the bullet hit just a few inches to the right and that thought had her shaking and wide-eyed.

“Katie!” Clint shouted, fear and anger fighting for dominance on his face as he watched her hit the ground. She lay there in shock, watching his reaction through a haze. He made sure she wasn’t immediately dying before turning his fury onto the Tracksuit Mafia, practically _snarling_ in their faces.

“Did you just _shoot at us_?” Clint asked, voice icy and hard. “Did you just _shoot my kid_?” The Russians froze, faces pale and eyes wide. The one with the gun tried to hide behind the others.

“Uh, bro,” one of them whined, backing away as much as possible. Clint wasn’t letting them go, though.

“Nuh-uh,” Clint warned, stalking forward. He wasn’t afraid of the gun, or having to fight off four men by himself. These people had _hurt Kate_ and that was _not_ okay. Clint’s hands were fisted at his sides and the Russians watched them apprehensively. They knew he was an Avenger, and an Avenger wouldn’t really _hurt_ them, right? That went against the Superhero Code or something, right? “I’m not done here,” Clint admitted, glaring at the one that had shot Kate, dragging him closer by the neck of his shirt.

He ripped the gun from the man’s hands and _growled_. “No more of this,” he warned, before shoving the man away angrily. He landed on his ass, staring up at his friends for any type of support, but they were watching Clint fiddling with the gun instead. Clint cocked the gun, raising it to aim right back at them, and let off a shot just two inches shy of the sprawled out man’s crotch.

That had the Russians running almost immediately.

They hustled to their feet, scrambling away from Clint now that _he_ was the one with a weapon on _them_. “We’ll be back, bro!”

“For the dog _and_ the building, bro!” another shouted as they turned the corner.

Clint made sure they were really gone before he turned, chucking the gun into a garbage bin and kneeling down beside Kate. She was holding her arm and scowling after the Russians. Clint started humming over her injury, face scrunched up in dismay as he poked and prodded. Lucky noticed their distress, licking at Kate’s cheek before hopping forward to nudge at Clint’s chin.

“You alright, kid?” Clint asked, nudging her hand further out of the way and hiking her sleeve up so he could see the damage clearer.

“I’m _fine_ ,” she complained, waving her arm around to show just how _fine_ she really was. She grimaced at the tug on her sliced skin, but kept a stoic face as she stumbled to her feet. Clint was at her side in a second, wrapping an arm around her waist in case she fell.

Kate was a strong, independent young woman but she was also just a teenager, and she had just had a very big scare. She clung to Clint’s arm, breathing a sigh of relief as she listened to him fret over her with real worry and care.

“Come on, let’s get you upstairs. Lucky, go on.” Lucky ran ahead of them, nudging the door open for them and bounding up the stairs while they struggled up the steps themselves.

Once they were safely ensconced in their apartment, Clint got Kate settled on the sofa before going off to search for the first aid kit. When he returned a few minutes later, Kate was still on the sofa looking pale and dazed while staring blankly at the floor. She was holding her hand tight against the red fabric on her shirt, her arm cradled in her lap.

“Hey, kiddo,” Clint said softly, kneeling down in front of her. He met her eyes, trying to bring her back to the present, and sighed in relief when she cracked a tiny smile his way. “Let’s take a look, hmm?”

He tugged the wet fabric away and started disinfecting the wound; it really _was_ more of a scratch than anything, but it made Clint feel better to be able to do something about it. As he tied the bandage off around her arm, Kate shocked him by leaning forward, burrowing into his neck and squeezing her arms tight around his neck.

Her breath was shaky, coming out in soft, short huffs. Clint didn’t hesitate to reach up and pull her closer, rubbing her back and burying his own face in her long black hair.

It had been frightening, seeing that gun pointed at Kate and knowing the Russian was going to pull the trigger. He had seen the bullet soar through the air and nearly hit her full on and his heart had _stopped_. What if he had lost Kate? What would he do then?

“I’m sorry, Kate. I should have been paying more attention. Or been better prepared. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be an idiot. I’m fine,” she huffed, pulling away to give him an indignant look. “I’m _fine_. Really. Nothing serious happened, and we’ll be better prepared next time. Don’t freak out about it.”

Clint gave her a weak smile in return, shaking his head in fond exasperation. “Sorry, Katie-Kate. It’s my job, you know?” He stood, ruffling her hair, and quickly hopped out of her reach as she lunged for him.

“Stay on the couch. I’ll order pizza and we’ll have a movie night. Go on,” he waved, walking into the kitchen to order their dinner.

Kate leaned back into the couch, feeling her adrenaline slowly drain from her bloodstream. Lucky hopped up beside her, sprawling out across her lap and snuggling into her stomach with a content little sigh. She threaded her fingers through his fur and watch Clint flit around the kitchen, probably making her hot cocoa or something else warm because he was a ridiculous mother hen whenever she got hurt.

True enough, he came back a few minutes later and shoved a hot mug into her hands before plopping down next to her, dragging her into his side with his arm wrapped comfortably around her shoulders.

“I’m glad you’re okay, hun,” he said quietly, running his thumb up and down her shoulder, squeezing tight. “I kinda like having you around, you know. The place would be pretty boring without you hanging out.”

He was staring at the blank television when Kate twisted to scrutinize his face. “You’re such a sap,” she decided, rolling her eyes and burrowing closer once more. With a sigh, she punched him in the chest before whispering quietly, “But I guess you’re my sap, so it’s fine. Whatever.”

Clint snorted and rolled his eyes but didn’t say a word. They sat in silence together until the pizza arrived. Clint hopped up and immediately began filling the silence with nonsense and babble until Kate started the next episode of Dog Cops and Clint _had_ to shut up.

It was probably one of the best nights of Kate’s life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long for me to update! I really am excited to write this one, I have the next five or so chapters outlined. I just haven't had time. I had summer finals and then two weeks of fieldwork and now I've got fall classes going on so it's been hectic, to say the least! Hope you enjoyed it!


	4. Chapter 4

Sometimes, Kate could be like a Chinese puzzle box, all intricate and confusing and ridiculously difficult. You know, if Chinese puzzle boxes screamed at you to go away when you needed the bathroom in the morning, or shot arrows at you from the rafters when it was having a bad day, or played really horrible pop music at full blast at three in the morning whenever it felt like it.

So, yeah, maybe not like a Chinese puzzle box after all.

Where was he going with that again?

Clint rolled his eyes at his own rambling thoughts. He was sitting on a bench outside of Kate’s school with twenty minutes to spare before the bell would ring and she would hop down that ridiculous amount of stairs out front.

He leaned his head back against the bench and let his mind wander again, with nothing better to do. He thought about Kate, the one thing that dominated the majority of his thoughts nowadays.

 _God_ , but that kid. They were finally starting to learn to rely on each other a bit more, acting more like real partners rather than two random people who just so happened to have the same call-sign and be in the same general vicinity when shit was going down. In the past, well before Clint had signed those papers, Kate had only shown up at his apartment when strictly necessary (or to bother him when she was bored); she had only asked for his help when she absolutely needed it (or was practically _dying_ ); she had even taken his name and his bow and pretty much everything else (purple was _his_ _color_ , dammit!) and had only shown mild embarrassment about it afterwards.

They had so much in common it was almost painful to live with her sometimes. She had always been a stubborn kid, but Clint hadn’t noticed so much when she had only popped up to mess with him every now and then. Her snark put his own to shame occasionally, while also leaving a proud tear in his eye. They fought over Lucky’s affections non-stop (that dog was going to get heart disease from all the greasy pizza they constantly bribed him with). They used the same weapons and had similar skill sets. They shared important values and beliefs.

Even though the girl was still stuck in eighth period, probably glaring at her teacher or throwing wads of paper with scary accuracy at a kid halfway across the room, Clint felt that funny feeling taking up space in his chest against just at the thought of her.

She was his _responsibility_ now. She was his _friend_. She was his _kid_ , above all.

He would do anything to see her smile, listen to her laugh, and also maybe shoot some bad guys with those funny silly string arrows that Tony had made as a joke (but which Clint had taken with glee and anticipation).

That kid was a goddamn force of nature that he just couldn’t deny. She was the most important part of his day, every day, all the time, and he nearly panicked at the certainty behind the thought, wondering when the hell that had become the truth. He speculated, vaguely queasy at the thought, if this was what parents felt when they thought about _their_ kids. Were they constantly at war with worry and pride over everything they did, like Clint was whenever Kate was out of his sight?

The recent scare with the Tracksuit Mafia, Kate’s blood all over his couch for days afterwards, had really been a turning point for their relationship.

For the better, he guessed.

He was an inherently protective man. Ask anyone at SHIELD and they would roll their eyes and nod along, sighing and pointing out the multitude of recruits Clint had gone against orders to bring in from the cold. It was common knowledge that he collected strays like it was his job and people just sort of _expected_ it of him nowadays. It was one of the reasons why no one who even _vaguely_ knew him had so much as batted an eye when he had announced Kate as his newest project.

That protectiveness translated into the oddest things in everyday life. After he had signed those papers, he found himself nit-picking the grocery list to include more vegetables and fruits and less frozen pizza and candy; when he was at the store, he somehow always wandered into the make-up aisle, searching for things he thought Kate might enjoy; he helped her with homework and listened to her complain about petty teenage angst and got her out of trouble at school when he could.

He was her dad in every way that mattered and that scared the _shit_ out of him.

With _that_ thought banging against the walls of his mind, the school bell rang loud and long and Clint opened his eyes to watch the wave of teenagers pour out of the school like there was a fire nipping at their heels. He watched and he waited, until he saw a familiar head of dark hair heading his way.

She was scowling, surrounded by a group of chattering girls, but the moment she saw Clint her face relaxed, just a little bit. Just to be a little shit, Clint jumped up from the bench and started waving his hands in the air like an idiot.

“Hey, Katie-Kate!” he shouted, waving wildly with a big grin on his face. Her eyes widened in embarrassment and she threw a harried look around herself, trying to see if anyone had noticed he was talking to _her_. She rushed to him as quickly as she could and threw a hand over his mouth while she used the other to swat his hands back down to his sides.

“Stop that!” she shrieked in exasperation. She seemed to be worried about her image, what people would think about that weirdo picking her up from school, but teenagers were notoriously self-centered; everyone had more important things to pay attention to, and she sighed in relief when she realized this for herself. “What are you doing here, anyway?” she asked, sounding more relaxed than she had moments earlier.

“What?” Clint said in faux-shock, ducking her hand on his mouth so he could tease her just a little bit more. “I can’t even pick you up from school now? Since when is this a rule?” He pouted, crossing his arms, and just like he was hoping, her smile was back and the scowl had disappeared. Kate rolled her eyes at him and tugged him further down the sidewalk, towards their apartment.

“Don’t be stupid,” she grumbled, dropping his arm once he starting keeping pace with her, leaving it at that.

They walked back to the apartment in relative silence, a comfortable and familiar thing between them now. Kate collapsed onto the couch once she was through the door, glaring at her book bag.

Clint didn’t even want to know what could be so bad, but he couldn’t help laughing at her a little bit, and that drew her attention to him, instead. She always bragged about how mature and self-sufficient she was, but it was nice to see that in some ways, she was still just a teenager.

He took the bait, her sad, sad face staring back at him upside down from the sofa. “Alright. Why the long face, Little Hawkeye?”

“Ew,” she said, her face screwing up in distaste. “Don’t call me that,” she complained. She rolled over on the couch to grudgingly tug at her bag, sighing when everything spilled out onto the floor. “Homework is _evil_ ,” she muttered as she pulled her books and paper closer, throwing them haphazardly onto the coffee table, her makeshift desk for everything homework (and food) related.

Clint couldn’t hide his amusement, but figured maybe he should go be amused somewhere else. There was a guiltily grateful feeling swirling in his chest that his own schooling had been cut gloriously short, and he had never had to deal with homework on the same level Kate was, now. When he had been Kate’s age, he had been learning the hard facts of life in the circus. He was about her age when Barney had abandoned him there, leaving him to protect himself for the first time in his entire life.

The thought of his brother still left him grappling with a fiery rage and the cold, detached feeling of being truly, utterly _alone_.

Huh. Maybe that was why he collected so many strays.

He shook his head and refused to follow that train of thought any further. He had already done far too much introspection for the day; he was all introspection-ed _out_.

Clint stood in the doorway to the kitchen for another moment, just watching her getting situated with her books and papers and pens before he decided to give her some room to work. She always appreciated that, when he treated her like a responsible adult with her own problems and her own priorities, giving her the room to do what she needed to do on her own terms.

The look of loathsome resignation on her face told him that it was probably going to be a long night for her.

He decided to hang out in the kitchen with his dog and his coffee, two of the three things he loved most in this apartment, going over a few possible missions that he could snatch up if he wanted. Things were different now than they had been even a few weeks ago; now that Kate was living with him full-time, he was reluctant to take the more dangerous, long-term missions. Those had always been his favorites, because they had been in exotic places with interesting people and they were rarely kill orders; it was usually recon, information gathering, and _a lot_ of people-watching.

Wasn’t that a kicker, though? He had never thought twice about what sorts of missions he took in the past, but now he had someone else depending on him to be home for dinner. He had to be more _careful_.

Disgruntled curses were coming from the living room, continuing to grow in volume and creativeness the darker the sky became outside the kitchen window. After more than an hour of steady cursing, Clint stood and hovered in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, peeking around the corner uncertainly.

Sometimes she made a scene just to let off a little steam.

Sometimes she made a scene to ask for help without asking for help.

She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, papers and books and pens surrounding her in a mess of chaos like a good, strong wind had blown through and disrupted the entire room. Kate was hunched over the coffee table, glaring at the page before her like it would make sense if only she _glared_ at it a little more. Sometimes she reminded him so strongly of Natasha Romanoff right after he had brought her in to SHIELD that it physically hurt his heart. She had glared at things like that, too, expecting them to do her bidding without her having to lift a finger.

He took a deep, steadying breath and pushed on. “What are you working on, kid? A list of the most creative swear words you can think of?”

Kate’s entire body froze for a fraction of a second, her cheeks coloring slightly, before she was all motion once more. “English essay,” she growled between clenched teeth, stabbing the paper with her pencil as she finished a word, accidentally tearing a jagged hole through the center of the page. “Ugh. Now I have to start over.”

Clint ignored her dramatics, getting to the root of the problem instead. “Essay, huh? Never seen someone scream that much at a piece of paper before. Need some help?”

Kate finally raised her head to meet his gaze, her hair frazzled and her eyes wide. “What do _you_ know about the civil unrest in Syria? You don’t even watch TV unless it’s Dog Cops or bad reality shows.”

“ _Actually_ ,” Clint pointed out, puffing up his chest and standing tall and proud, showing off (just a little), “I _totally_ know _all_ about that, thanks. I work for an intelligence agency, _obviously_ I know about Syria.”

Kate looked dubious, but she moved over just enough that he could crawl into her nest of papers and books to look over her shoulder and tell her what he could. To her surprise and Clint’s smug delight, he actually was quite helpful, pointing her in the right direction for sources to check and references to use. She hadn’t known where to start, but with his guidance, she had the paper finished long before the night was over.

She leaned back against Clint’s legs behind her, sighing in relief as she finished the final word and shoved the essay away with a satisfied smirk.

Clint watched her fondly, _and there it was again_ , that infuriatingly warm feeling spreading out from his chest and reaching through his body until his everything, from his toes to his hair, was tingling with the sensation. It was becoming a more common occurrence the more Kate’s life intertwined with his own. He couldn’t help the warm smile he shot the back of her head as he patted her shoulder in congratulations.

“Guess what?” he said, leaning over her shoulder when she leaned further into his knees, tipping her head back to meet his gaze. She was smirking now, pride and relief swirling in her expression. “There are tacos in the kitchen,” he revealed reverently, and Kate nearly knocked him over in her haste to leave her papers behind and get to dinner first. Clint stayed sprawled out on the sofa, watching in amusement as Lucky bounded after her, thinking there was a treat for him, too.

That never would have happened before, either, he admitted to himself a bit morosely; Clint had grown up knowing that if you didn’t get to the food first, you probably wouldn’t get to it at all. Old habits were hard to kick, but now he always let Katie get her fill before he dragged his old, tired ass into the kitchen to get his own plate. He never gave it a second thought. And sometimes, if he was lucky, she would be generous and bring him a plate along with one for herself.

Tonight must have been a lucky night, because she returned a few minutes later, two plates piled high with overflowing tacos balanced on her outstretched hands. She shoved one of them in Clint’s face and settled back on the floor with her own.

“Aww, _Katie_ -,” he started, wanting to tease and poke and laugh, but she just looked at him over her shoulder and _glared_.

There was no real _heat_ to it, of course, but it was the thought that counted. “Don’t say a _word_ , or it’s never happening _again_ ,” she warned.

That was bullshit and they both knew it, but Kate had always had a hard time with receiving gratitude.

Clint let them settle into silence, the only sound being their chewing and chomping, and Lucky gnawing on a bone on the other side of the coffee table (so Kate _had_ gotten him a treat, after all!).

The night grew deeper and darker, and Clint reveled in the feeling of Kate leaning against his legs. She was a solid weight there, keeping his thoughts from wandering too far off, like they had earlier in the afternoon. He had always had a problem with daydreaming, with wandering thoughts and wishes.

He brushed a strand of hair out of Kate’s face and back behind her ear, and she sent him a smirk as she took a giant bite of her taco. That fluttery feeling, something like _pride_ and _love_ and _admiration_ all mixed and flowed together until it was one big swirling amalgamation of sensation and thought.

If this is what being a dad felt like, then he never ever wanted to give it up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everybody! Thanks for sticking with me and my ridiculous breaks between chapters. I know I'm really bad about updating, I'm sorry! Also, for all of you waiting for Bucky to show up, I plan for him to be in the next chapter! Thanks for reading.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, hey there, hello, so.  
> Sorry about the ridiculous wait for anything new. In order to say sorry, here, have a monster of a chapter! Also, introducing Bucky! I know you guys have been patiently waiting and here he is!

Snow was coming down pretty hard in mid-December; it seemed that it had finally gotten cold enough that the stuff was sticking around for longer than an hour or two, and Kate was looking forward to getting inside, discarding her soggy sneakers and pants, and curling up on the sofa with a cup of hot chocolate and a movie or two. It was Friday, the beginning of Christmas break, and she was going to enjoy it no matter what.

It was quiet in the building as she made her way up to the apartment she shared with Clint. She slid her key into the lock and walked inside, most of her attention on her cell phone as she tried to decide what movie she wanted to start with. Later, she would blame her total inattention as the reason she took more than 2 seconds to notice the extra body in the room.

It was mid-December, snowing hard and fast outside, and the Winter Soldier was huddled on their couch, Kate’s favorite fluffy purple blanket thrown over his shoulders and a bright pink mug of hot chocolate steaming into his exhausted, unshaven face.

She stared at him for a heartbeat, her phone completely forgotten, and barely recognized him at first; he just looked like a too-thin, scruffy hobo, wearing a dirty hoodie and a grubby ball cap, his heavy boots caked in freshly drying mud as they laid sprawled out in front of him.

Once her heart started beating regularly again, Kate’s brain caught up and the realization hit her like a brick to the face: this was the freaking _Winter Soldier_. She took a private moment to have a bit of a fangirl freak-out because, _hello_ , this was _the_ most badass assassin in the history of pretty much _ever_ (she was almost 100% certain the Black Widow would forgive her her momentary disloyalty once the woman caught a glimpse of the man’s killer jawline, because _damn_ ) and he was sitting on _her_ couch, wrapped up in _her_ blanket, looking absolutely, _ridiculously_ adorable.

This was amazing, and her brain almost couldn’t compute.

Almost.

“So, uh,” she said _oh so eloquently_ , trailing off with wide eyes as she dropped her backpack to the floor with a thud and kicked her beat up sneakers beneath the table by the door. “’Sup, dude?”

The Winter Soldier raised his eyes slowly from the floor to look at her, but his gaze was hazy and he almost seemed to just skip right over her as he scanned around the room sluggishly. A shiver ran down her spine at the dead, empty look in his vacant eyes. Finally, his gaze seemed to settle on her for more than a second, weak though the motion looked to be. It took longer than she was expecting for a world-infamous assassin, but she recognized the moment he seemed to realize her chatter hadn’t just been coming from his own head.

That dull gaze brightened in a split second from nothing to a sort of wild, animal panic as he took notice of her and all her sixteen-year-old glory, and Kate realized that she had absolutely _no clue_ what the hell to do in this situation.

Clint was banging around in the kitchen in the periphery of her awareness, letting out one curse after another, so it was probably safe to assume that the big WS hadn’t just snuck into their apartment to snuggle in her blanket and steal their hot chocolate. Clint probably knew the guy was coming over weeks ago and had forgotten to bring Kate into the loop, because that was _absolutely_ something Clint would do, being the idiot he was. But he was _her_ idiot and her biggest ally half the time, but at the moment he was also pretty friggin’ far away, and not within useful shielding distance if the big guy had a freak out.

Still.

Useful information to know.

Okay.

She could _totally_ handle this.

Her internal reasoning was proven pretty true when the poor guy cast a worried, wide-eyed look toward the kitchen, like _Kate_ was the super scary one in this situation. The Winter Soldier let out a long, high-pitched whimper as he glanced between Kate and the kitchen, but the guy didn’t even move an inch, just hunched his massive shoulders some more, watching Kate warily through the fringe of his hair that hung in dirty clumps in front of his face.

Poor homeboy needed a good haircut.

Stat.

His sad, doe eyes were quickly killing her, too, and it was almost pathetic how easily she caved beneath their power. “Oh, jeez. It’s okay, buddy. Really. Just calm down, it’s all good.” She held her empty hands up in the most non-threatening way possible, taking a few steps back away from him until she was running right into the door. “I didn’t mean to freak you out, man. I’m sorry.” How Clint wasn’t reacting to anything coming from this room was beyond her, unless he was being stupid and had taken his hearing aides out again.

She decided right then and there that once this was all squared away and laughed off as a funny little misunderstanding, she and Clint were going to have one long, serious discussion about him keeping her up to date on things like when he was supposed to be off training with the Avengers or like when random assassins were going to be dropping by out of the blue.

The silence was growing uncomfortable and Kate was starting to panic (slightly, only _slightly_ ). What the _hell_ was she supposed to do now? “Clint!” she hissed loudly, hoping he would come to the rescue and start explaining. “Hey, the Worst Hawkeye!”

Finally ( _finally_ ), Clint poked his head out of the kitchen like this was just any other day. “Oh. Hey, kiddo!” He turned his attention over to the couch and smiled softly as he took a few more steps into the living room. “Hey. James.” He waited until the Winter Soldier’s terror-blown eyes slowly shifted across the room until they landed on Clint. “This is Kate. I told you about her earlier. She lives here, too, and I watch out for her nowadays.” He spoke slowly and evenly, like he was trying to make sure the Soldier was taking everything in.

The Soldier was still huddled up on the couch in what looked like an extremely uncomfortable position, wide eyed and confused, but at least he was able to peek his head out of his blanket burrito just a bit more. He was staring up at Clint with an almost ridiculous intensity, like he was trying to wade through heavy fog to understand a single thing Clint was saying.

Something about the man’s reaction was striking her as odd, and Kate almost kicked herself for how long it took her to realize what the problem was. She turned on Clint with the sudden realization, eyes flashing with suspicion. “Is he _drugged_?” she demanded, trying to keep her body language calm in order to keep the Soldier calm, too. The last thing she needed was to set the poor man off.

“Um,” Clint drew out, suddenly looking uncomfortable and a little bit uneasy as he rubbed the back of his neck. “A little bit?” At Kate’s unimpressed glare, Clint almost fell over himself trying to give her a better answer. “Only a little bit! He was really nervous about coming over today and Steve was just making it worse the more he talked, so Natasha stuck him with a sedative. But Tony miscalculated the dose and accidentally, kinda knocked him out on his ass. It was just supposed to keep him calm but it did it a little too well and Steve sort of had to drag him here. Like, literally.”

Kate’s glare didn’t soften, and Clint flinched. “Okay, when I say it out loud, it sounds a lot worse than how it did in my head.”

“That was a freakin’ _stupid_ plan. And you people think you’re all so smart!” She continued to rant at Clint for a few more minutes, really getting into it with a few choice insults, no longer concerned that she would scare the Soldier; his eyes were misty and far away again. With most of her focus on chewing Clint out, she had to admit that the theme of the day was at least holding true, and it took her a stupid amount of time to notice Captain America hovering uncertainly in the doorway to the kitchen, face stricken but also _beet red_ in embarrassment.

Kate felt she probably could rival him in the red-face department when she finally noticed him; she had pretty much just called Captain America a dumbass to his face.

Could a hole just open up and swallow her down, like, _right now_ , please?

Now that the fire had cleared from her vision just a bit, she was able to glance over Clint’s shoulder to see the Sold-no, _James_ , Clint had called him _James_ -with a dopey little grin sitting crookedly on his face. He met her eyes easily enough for the first time since she had walked through the door, and they weren’t even hazy or fear-filled. His eyes were sparkling with glee and he carefully licked his lips, swallowed nervously a few times, and then croaked out, “I really like her. She tells it like it is, Stevie. Calls you out on your stupid shit, punk.” He chuckled lowly and then leaned further back into the sofa, shaking his head in baffled amusement, bringing his mismatched hands up to take a sip of hot chocolate. “Yep, we’re definitely keeping her.”

Then his eyes danced around the room with a jittery little flick every few seconds. He looked down at his hot chocolate like it had personally offended him, screwed his face up in the most adorable bitch face possible, and then seemed to realize that he had the attention of the rest of the room. “ _Ugh_ ,” he groaned, eyes squeezed shut tight before cracking them open a moment later to glare at Clint and Captain America. “What the hell was in those fucking drugs?”

Rogers practically fell over himself rushing to James’ side, apologizing over and over.

The tension in the room quickly trickled away after that little outburst, and Kate sagged bonelessly against the door, trying to catch her breath. Living with Clint could be stressful sometimes, but she had to admit that this wasn’t even the weirdest thing that had ever happened.

Clint sidled up beside her as she was trying to figure out what she wanted to do next (watching a movie and drinking hot chocolate seemed like the dreams from a much simpler time, after what she was dealing with now).

“Hey, Katie. Sorry I forgot to tell you they were coming over today. I forgot about it myself until they were knocking at the door.” He took another deep breath when she just lifted a shoulder at him, rolling her eyes.

“Uh-huh. So what’s the story here, buddy?” she asked, calmly, raising a brow at him.

Clint sighed and ran a hand over his face. “This was all kind of last minute. James and Tony don’t get on at all, and the tension was really getting to everybody. James wanted to remove himself from it all. He needs a place that’s calmer, and he felt bad about making Tony uncomfortable in his own home.”

Kate frowned at that. She released a huge sigh then, folding her arms across her chest in impotent annoyance. “I really hate when you do that, making everything sound so altruistic and selfless, because then I can’t be angry at you.” It really didn’t bother her any adding another adult to their household, she was just worried about the poor guy. “Yeah, whatever, that’s totally fine with me. More the merrier, right?”

Clint smiled, soft and happy, like he always did when he was secretly proud of her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and giving her a tight squeeze. “Thanks, kiddo. I’m just worried about him, Steve says James has been kind of isolating himself. Maybe we can bring him out of his shell some while he’s here.”

Kate agreed and they left it at that. It wasn’t like it was a difficult thing to decide; James needed help and a place to stay, and they had more than enough room to help the guy out.

Rogers stayed for a slightly-awkward dinner of two-day-old Chinese food eaten around their rickety little kitchen table that was rarely used for its actual intended purpose. He hovered at the doorway on his way out, almost desperately watching James over Clint’s shoulders, trying to make eye contact just one last time. Kate thought it was kinda cute but ultimately unnecessary, and left it to Clint to deal with as she settled on the floor in front of the coffee table. Rogers was _his_ friend, after all, not hers.

She heard Clint trying to gently reassure Rogers, and smiled to herself as he got more and more blunt that it was _time to go already, buddy, come on now, he’ll be fine_.

When Rogers finally got the door shoved unrepentantly in his face, Clint sighed and then started flitting around the apartment, apparently attempting to tidy up. It was a lost cause, and Kate had no clue why he was even trying. All of the Avengers had at least a vague idea of Clint’s concept of the idea of ‘clean’.

As she sat on the floor across from James, she was easily able to study him through her lashes while she pretended to sort through her backpack. This was her first spare moment to study the guy, get a good long look and take him all in. She had heard a bit about him from Clint and half-stories overheard between Clint and the other Avengers while she was blatantly eavesdropping, but she had never met James Barnes face to face. And now that she really was, she was realizing how unprepared she was to meet someone so very notorious and deadly.

Don’t get her wrong, all the other Avengers were super deadly, too. But they weren’t 100-year-old brainwashed POWs with PTSD and identity issues. They had all gotten at least some sort of closure, distance, and/or treatment since dealing with their trauma; with James, it was more than likely extremely fresh, like a fresh knife wound or something.

Clint had said that the man was there to recover in peace.

Where the _hell_ he had gotten the idea that their apartment was peaceful was beyond her, unless Clint had spun some ridiculous lies in order to talk him into it. And that was another thing; Clint had barely said ten words about James Barnes to her before the man had just appeared on their couch. Since when were the two buddy-buddy enough for the Soldier to decide to shack up in their tiny apartment?

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” James asked, breaking her out of her own head, and she realized that she hadn’t been as sneaky as she thought she was being. She jerked and looked up at him guiltily; she was almost completely sure she had been staring vacantly at him for the last few minutes, which was embarrassing as hell. At least James wasn’t looking so skittish anymore; now he just looked all stoned and boneless, leaning back against the couch comfortably, all loose limbed and floppy.

Those must have been some _really_ _good_ drugs.

“Sorry! No, you’re fine, really. I was just thinking.” She winced at her own defensiveness, feeling like every time she opened her mouth was just another opportunity to shove her foot a little further in. “So, uh. What made you want to move in with us?”

Barnes’ smile stretched across his face slowly and surely, and Kate could see why he had been such a heartbreaker back in the day. Now he just looked vaguely amused and more than a little exhausted by the world.

“I heard Clint telling you what’s up. I felt like such a dick, making Stark feel so hounded in his own house. Clint offered and Steve threw the puppy dog eyes at me, and it’s been years but I’m still not immune to them.” Barnes frowned then, looking closer to a pout than any real angst at that. But then he seemed to come to another conclusion and frowned with real emotion at her, all sadness and big eyes. “Oh, no. Am I going to make you feel bad in your home, too? Shit, Clint said he had somebody else living with him, but I kind of assumed it was his girlfriend or something.”

“Uh. No.” Kate couldn’t hold back the gag she let out thinking about Clint with a girlfriend. Ew. “Sorry to disappoint?”

Barnes chuckled in relief, something heavy and dark but showing real amusement. “Naw, kid. It’s all good. I had a little sister, she was just around your age last time I saw her.” His eyes grew faraway again, but he was getting better at bringing himself back, because it didn’t last near as long as the other times had. “Just, don’t be afraid to tell me off, if I’m in your way or something. I saw the spitfire you are, and I ain’t no wilting flower here. Be yourself, yeah?”

Kate blushed but nodded, looking down to her hands stuck deep in her backpack. She peeked up at him and they traded uneasy, awkward smiles while Kate vaguely wondered where the hell Clint had wandered off to. The apartment was very open concept, so he had to either be hiding in the bathroom or upstairs in his loft.

It meant something, though, that Clint trusted James enough to be safe around her. At least, she _hoped_ that was his thought process, and he hadn’t just gotten side tracked by something else with no intention of leaving them alone for so long.

In an attempt to break the awkward moment, Kate tugged her homework out of her backpack and set about getting her workspace set up, even if she didn’t really feel like doing it, especially on the first night of winter break. Barnes settled down more comfortably on the sofa once more, closing his eyes and tugging the blanket up around his shoulders more snuggly. She smiled softly at the image and if she surreptitiously snapped a quick picture of him looking so damned adorable, well, no one could prove it.

They sat there together in relative silence for another hour or so, Kate working on her homework and James sleeping (or not, it was really difficult to tell because, y’know, _super assassin_ ).

And then Clint _finally_ decided to pop back up. He flopped down on the floor with Kate, leaning up against her side in the most annoying way possible, snacking on what looked to be an old slice of pizza (where he got that, she wasn’t sure, as she had checked the fridge earlier and there hadn’t been any pizza in there) or else it was some mad scientist’s pet project, if you went by the odd smell and possible grey fuzz growing on top. She gagged at the smell alone and leaned over until she was practically laying on the floor, trying to shove Clint and his monster pizza out of her space.

“You are disgusting, you know that, right? God, how you don’t get food poisoning I will never understand!”

“Oh, come on, Katie! It’s really not that bad, I swear! You’re overreacting!” Clint tried to crawl closer to her, leaning down to attempt a kiss to her cheek, but Kate was smaller and faster, shoving a small hand in his face and beating him away.

“You are so gross! Ugh, your _breath_!”

Their argument was abruptly cut short when they heard soft, disbelieving laughter coming from their newest roommate. Kate and Clint both turned wide eyes toward him as he brought his metal hand up to cover his grin. Nothing could mask the amusement shining through in his eyes, though.

“Sorry, it’s just, you guys sound just like me and Steve when we were kids.” He snorted to himself and let his hand drop, smile still on his face even as he shook his head. “It was usually me messing with Steve, seeing as I was pretty immune to bad smells, bodily fluids, or pretty much anything gross he could think up.”

Kate stared at James with big eyes that shone with admiration. Any kid that had grown up from WWII-on had at least a smattering of ingrained hero-worship in them for the Howling Commandoes, but especially Sergeant Barnes and Captain Rogers. Being able to hear stories about their youth together was more than something special.

It helped that this story was also something she could probably use to make Captain Rogers turn red again the next time she saw him.

“Wow,” Kate breathed out eloquently, starry eyed as she tried to picture the scene. A younger, less haunted Bucky Barnes sitting on the floor, looking bored and calm while a skinny Steve Rogers tried to unsuccessfully rile him up.

It was downright _hilarious_.

She side-eyed Clint carefully for a split second, trying to ask him with the power of eye contact how much further she could safely push this topic, but Clint was being oblivious as usual so she decided to just push on. “By chance, you got any other funny stories from back in the day? If you don’t, uh, mind sharing?”

When Barnes graced her with a soft, nostalgic smile that had her knees going weak even sitting down, Kate easily shoved her math homework to the side and folded her arms on top of the table, resting her chin on top to watch Barnes closely. She knew, even from the very little she knew of him, that this was probably a touchy subject. She appreciated that he was willing to tell her stories, especially seeing as they had only met a few hours earlier.

Barnes spent the rest of the night adding to her arsenal of funny and embarrassing trash on Captain America, keeping her laughing until long after midnight. When the sky started to lighten up outside, Clint nudged Kate in the side and dragged her to her feet, corralling her into her room to get some necessary sleep, even if she complained and bargained the whole way. She was getting a little punch drunk the later it got and Clint knew the only cure for that was either energy drinks or sleep, and they were all out of energy drinks. Besides, he _was_ trying to be a responsible guardian, here.

Clint returned to the living room a few minutes later, giving James a big, wide grin. “Thanks for indulging her. She’s got a little hero worship thing going on for the Avengers. She doesn’t really get to interact with them much, though, so this was a nice treat for her.”

Barnes returned Clint’s smile, the drugs finally out of his system for the most part. He was feeling much more level headed. “It’s not a problem. She’s a great kid; you’re lucky to have her.”

Clint stared down at his feet, bashfully kicking his foot out while he shoved his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, she’s pretty great. Don’t say that to her face, though; it’d probably go straight to her head, and she’s already pretty full of herself. And don’t let her hear you calling her a kid, either, or she’ll probably shoot you full of arrows. Or, _try_ , at least.”

An easy silence fell between them then, and Clint shifted forward enough to flop down on the cushion next to Barnes. It was comfortable and quiet and they just sat there for a few minutes, enjoying the calm.

“You know, why don’t I show you to your room, man? It’s getting late, isn’t it?” Clint stood up, nearly tripped over Kate’s backpack, and caught himself last minute on James’ outstretched hand. His face flushed red and he rolled his eyes at himself, but gave James a big ol’ grin in return. “Thanks, buddy. Anyway,” he said, hopping down the hall until he was standing in front of another door. James followed close behind, an indulgent grin on his face. “Kate’s room is right next to yours, and mine is up those stairs, there. Bathroom’s down the hall. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to come get me.” They stood shoulder to shoulder in front of the door, and Barnes stared calmly at the Spartan room when Clint kicked the door open. Clint waited patiently for his appraisal, and smirked when James finally turned to him, a hand stretched out easily between them. Clint grabbed on, shaking hard and loose.

“I really do appreciate this, Clint. I don’t know how I’ll repay you.”

“Don’t worry about it, really. It’s not a problem. I think you’ll fit right in here. Now, why don’t you go and get some rest, buddy. We’ll see you in the morning.”

Barnes nodded, took a step into the room, and let the door click shut silently behind him. He took one deep breath, then another and another until he could think real clear again.

This was going to be so new, so different from his life in the Tower, he mused to himself. But it felt _right_ , like something old and familiar and worn in comfortably. Like his childhood, really, now that he actually stopped to think about it.

His memories were always filtered through grainy, sepia tones or too-bright lights, almost never anything in between, it was either one or the other. Sometimes years at a time were missing but he’d learned to live with that; he would either remember those years or he wouldn’t.

But he did remember the big house he and his family had lived in when he was a child, his baby sisters running from room to room, tugging on his hand to get him to play. He remembered living in tight quarters with his whole family, with Steve in their tiny apartment, with the men shoved like sardines in the barracks and in the muddy trenches during the War and the rusty steel cages in Azzano.

But this apartment, this was something _familiar_ , _nostalgic_ even. New York. Bedstuy. This city had been so different back when he was a kid, but in a lot of ways, it was still so much the same. He could get used to living here. He could recover here. He was ready and he was willing and, he decided, it was about damn time he take care of himself again.

He settled on the bed and sighed at how lumpy and firm the mattress was. It was horrible and uncomfortable and cheap and absolutely _perfect_ for him. It sent a pang of wistfulness through his chest and memory after memory piled on top of each other until he couldn’t discern one from the other.

But it was okay. It would be okay. It _would_.

**Author's Note:**

> I might change the title. I got it from Sara Bareilles's new album that I've been binge listening to for the last week. I have more of this planned, but I haven't gotten around to writing it yet, so we'll just have to see how it goes. Hope you liked it so far, let me know what you thought!


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